Bottoms Up
by LoveSupreme
Summary: Erik's a bit nervous about this bottoming business, but who can stay nervous once Charles takes over? Fits with F.R.I. or without it. Happy New Years! And I promise to eventually write outside of this Uni lol


Erik stared off into space, his fingers drumming against the glass tabletop of the fancy Italian bistro until Emma broke into his thoughts.

"What's this fidgeting about?" she asked suspiciously. Her tone immediately turned eager. "Did you and Charles break up?"

There was nothing left to do but roll his eyes. It was her constant hope, though he thought it was a bit premature. If he could manage to date Nate (the worst boyfriend of his life) for three months then he figured he and Charles should be able to manage at least that. But he'd already railed, threatened, cajoled and shook her, all to no avail, and his energy had been depleted to the point where her aggravating optimist (pessimism?) could result in nothing but heavy sighing and rolling eyes.

"We didn't break up, and I thought we had agreed not to talk about it?" he complained. It was their vague stalemate situation: she wouldn't talk about setting him up and he wouldn't talk about how happy he was with Charles. Which Emma chose to explain away thusly:

"We said we wouldn't talk about you being _happy_ with Professor Puppy. All this squirming doesn't seem to equate to happiness to me," she argued, sipping her wine to hide her hopeful grin.

Erik tried to think if this conversation was off-limits or not, and decided it wasn't, which was actually great because he could now get a second opinion on it and Emma was his only friend.

He skidded his chair closer to hers and leaned in discreetly.

"Do you remember what I told you about bottoming?" he asked quietly. Emma frowned back at him, trying to remember.

"Just that you agreed with my father that it was a depraved practice," she growled. She didn't like talking about her dad.

"I didn't agree with your father. Your father's an asshole," he corrected, slumping in his seat unhappily.

"You think it's depraved, my dad thinks it's depraved—that's agreement."

"I never said I thought it was depraved. I said I didn't like and I didn't understand what other people liked about it but if they did like it then more power to them and they should bottom for me."

"I feel like this is a conversation you should be having with my brother instead of me. Is the bottom the girl?"

"It's gay sex, if there's a girl you're doing it wrong."

"You know what I mean," she pouted unhappily.

"Anyway, I haven't bottomed since I was twenty-nine," Erik started but he was interrupted.

"Are you talking about that skeevy perv again? The magician or something?"

Erik frowned angrily. He couldn't say if Nate was a magician or not, he'd lied about so many things it was impossible to figure out what his career or job might have been. He didn't like to be reminded of Nate, especially erroneously.

"No, I'm not talking about the skeevy perv, I'm talking about the human refrigerator."

Emma's cheeks lit up red with anger. "The one who beat you up? What did he do now? I tell you, you really know how to pick them."

"Yeah and your dating history is just so absolutely stellar," he sneered back.

"I believe you were going to tell me something?" she snarled, glaring at him.

"Anyway, Charles and I have been trying to get me back on the bottoming bandwagon and tonight's sort of the do-or-die moment."

Emma stared wide-eyed with horrified disbelief. "The little princess is going to rape you?"

"Oh my god, it's not rape. We've been working up to this moment all month," he sighed, shoving his food away from him. He wasn't hungry.

"How do you work up to bottoming?"

He was sure she didn't actually want to know. Things like fingering, rimming, plugs and dildos were not things she needed to hear about from someone who was like a second brother to her.

"That's not important. The point is, tonight's the big night—"

"If you don't want to do it then don't do it. He can't make you."

"That's not it," Erik grit out with frustration. "Will you just fucking listen? What I'm trying to say is that tonight's the big night and I just don't want to mess anything up."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Erik sighed and looked away, wishing he could just text her this instead of having to say it out loud, but then she'd have written proof of his situation.

"What I mean is, what if we went through all that work together and everything and I still freak out? What if it's something I never get over?"

Charles said there was no pressure. Charles said that if Erik decided he'd never like bottoming ever again in his entire life then they'd "go from there". But he said it in a brave sort of way that suggested he'd be martyr to their failed sexual relationship, not as if not liking bottoming was an eccentric pecadillio on par with not liking mushrooms or something survivable like that. Erik dreamed of the days when he couldn't care fucking less if his partner thought he was too aberrant to date. But that was not the case now. He liked Charles too much, dreamed of their future too often, to lose it all now due to his own internalized fuckups. Emma was too obtuse to see this.

"Easy, just find a new boyfriend who'll never ask you to bottom. I'll help you find one. Are you sure you don't like my brother? He'd certainly never ask you to bottom."

"I don't like blonds," Erik grumbled. Emma glared.

"If this were natural I'd hit you for that," she growled, flipping her hair.

Erik sighed, rolling his eyes. Why did he even bother? Why couldn't have a good best friend who did exactly what he wanted her to do and said only things that would actually help him?

"Just tell him it's not your cup of tea and if he wants it so bad he can go find someone else," Emma suggested and Erik about balked himself right out of his chair.

"He absolutely cannot go find someone else! You twat—that's the absolute last thing I want him to go do! What kind of shit advice are you giving here?"

"What the hell do you want me to say?"

"Tell me everything is going to be okay and I'm not going to freak and it's all going to go swimmingly! Lie to me, you bitch!"

"You've been hanging around with that soft-hearted loon too much. You're turning into a pansy. This is exactly what I worried would happen if you started dating that baby, you know."

"You worried he'd want to fuck me up the arse and I'd be afraid of it?"

Hearing that he was afraid of anything apparently shocked her out of her bitchiness because she dropped the façade, looping an arm around his shoulders awkwardly.

"Just do like my mother told me, dear: close your eyes and wait for it to end."

* * *

Charles tried just about once every single day to fill him with as many calories as his body could manage, and today was no exception even though he was feeling even less like eating than normal.

"I thought we could try one of the recipes from that cookbook Moira got me for Christmas!" the man beamed on his doorstep that evening, groceries in one arm and overnight bag in the other. Erik would have explained that food was the last thing on his mind because taking Charles' not-terribly-inconsiderable cock up his arse was absolutely the _only_ thing on his mind, but didn't bother. The fact was, seeing Charles manage a kitchen impressed him incredibly, and he was happy for the attempt at a distraction.

"Are you nervous?" Charles questioned in the middle of roasting chicken and boiling potatoes.

Erik choked on the wine Charles had poured him and blushed at the garlic he was cutting (the only task he could be trusted with without the fire department having to get involved).

"You can tell me," Charles laughed, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Erik's slim waist.

"I know," Erik responded, because he did. He knew Charles would handle the information very empirically, wouldn't get overly emotional about it, and certainly not offended about it. The question was if he wanted Charles to know… "I guess a little."

Charles hugged him tighter and kissed the knob of his spine, making all the skin under his sweater tingle.

"We'll take it slow. You can always change your mind," the man snuggled against him to say, sliding his hands across Erik's stomach. He grinned, his muscles twitching under those smooth hands.

"I'll be okay." And he would be, he knew. Charles wasn't anything like Nate, like Gunther. Charles cared, really intensely cared, about whether Erik was enjoying himself or not. It wasn't that Nate went out of his way to hurt Erik, but neither was it the case that Nate had really gone out of his way to avoid hurting Erik either. Gunther had taken it one step further the one time Erik had let him top. The man had seen it as the perfect opportunity for revenge rather than Erik trying to get through the trauma of his past relationship. From then on out Erik had decided he simply wouldn't bottom anymore, and it had worked for him until he'd started dating Charles.

The truth was, for the first time since Magda he was really intensely interested in pleasing the person he was with. And while Charles was good with bottoming nine times out of ten, the man was keenly interested in having the option to try his hand at topping every now and then, when the mood struck him. Could Erik stand to not give him what he wanted without even trying? He had to do his best, if only to prove to himself that he'd done everything he could to make Charles happy. He had to try, he had to. He just hoped he'd be able to survive the humiliation, the guilt, of possibly failing.

After all the menial kitchen labor was finished, Erik just sat back on a stool in the kitchen and watched in awe as Charles made masterpieces. Chatting and joking and beaming the whole time, the man came out of an hour with buttermilk roasted chicken, garlic rosemary potatoes, and even rice pudding.

"How do you know how to do all this stuff?" Erik asked in awe as Charles made him a plate he had no interest in marring the beauty of by eating.

"What are you talking about? It's a recipe—you just follow the recipe!"

"Not me," Erik countered, shaking his head. "It never works when I try it."

"I remember. I was in that cooking class with you until they kicked us out."

"That wasn't my fault. Their fire extinguishers were faulty."

"I agree, of course, darling," Charles hummed, leaning across the dining room table to kiss him affectionately on the lips.

Dinner was a sweet candle-lit affair, and Erik managed through a few bites of each course before putting it aside to watch his boyfriend and muse.

Charles was so very different from the other men Erik had dated, so he knew that tonight wasn't going to be anything like what being with Nate or Gunther had been like. Nate was a lying asshole who saw other people as meaningless pods put on earth solely for his benefit. Charles was a sweet sex-fiend. Gunther thought sticking your dick in someone rough enough for them to cry out over it was good payback for laughing at a person's ridiculously vocal orgasm. Charles couldn't consider payback unless it was the sort that required a signed check.

Even if Erik didn't instinctively know these things about Charles, the last month would have been enough to tell him that he had nothing to worry about in terms of getting hurt tonight.

Last month he and Charles had put themselves on a schedule: they'd work on getting Erik primed and ready for one month and see how it went at the end. And little did Erik know how absolutely fucking hot 'primed and ready' was going to mean. He had figured out he was a fan of fingering long ago, but had never even known that rimming was something that people did, or that it was something that actually felt pretty god damned good. Then Charles had come home with something that looked a larger rubber version of the dog collar spikes goth girls wore these days.

"What is it?" Erik had questioned, and Charles had spent the rest of the night showing him. He could barely think the words 'butt plug' now without his cock stirring eagerly.

Looking at everything he had tried and loved over the past few weeks, it was hard to imagine that he would have any problems moving on to the real deal, but somehow practice didn't seem to prepare him for the big leagues. After all, it wasn't that he had a problem with anything up his arse. He liked fingering just fine. More than fine, really. Even the vibrator, a short sleek metal affair, had pleased him without any anxiety.

But none of those things were an actual human cock, attached to a real human man with a mind and whims and mistakes all his own, and that was the only thing that really made him nervous.

"Come on," Charles grinned down at him as he stood, moving to stand at Erik's knees and taking his hands.

"I should probably do dishes," Erik cleared his throat to say.

"I'll do them in the morning."

Erik didn't want to prove his reticence by arguing, so he let Charles pull him into a stand and lead him to the bedroom, heart trembling in his chest.

* * *

Erik didn't see the point in climbing the stairs every night when he had the house to himself anyway so he slept in the downstairs bedroom and really hadn't used the master bedroom since he and Magda had lived together. If Charles thought his room choice was strange he'd never let on. He led Erik along to the bedroom, quietly smiling, happy but calm, serene.

"You can be on top, if that makes you feel better," Charles offered, standing before Erik in the doorway sweetly, brushing his hands through his hair.

"No, that's okay."

Charles held him by the face, gazing deeply into his eyes, mouth slightly quirked.

"We don't have to do this, you know. A month was just an approximation."

"Last week I was begging for it. You should have struck while the iron was hot."

"Yes well last week you had five inches of dildo vibrating into your prostate so I couldn't really trust what you were begging me to do to you."

"I wouldn't have held it against you."

"You could have… Well then, will you lie down, please? On the bed." Charles was looking up at him through his eyelashes and his sweet requesting coupled with that gleaming gaze made Erik's cock twitch tentatively inside his slacks.

He did as he was told, going to his bed and lying down on his back. Neither of them turned the light on. Charles just closed the door and followed, standing at Erik's knees and brushing his fingertips up Erik's calf. But, Erik realized, the dim light at his wardrobe was on, burning faintly on the lowest setting. Had Charles turned that on when he came in to put away his overnight bag? The brunet didn't seem surprised to see it on. Indeed, he didn't seem anything but intensely turned on, eyes dragging from Erik's lean legs up over his angled hips and flat stomach, catching on his sharp collarbones before smoldering into his eyes.

"Now touch yourself. Through your sweater, I want you to touch your collarbones and then down, over your nipples."

Erik gulped, surprised but interested, reached and took Charles' hand. Charles had been bossy before, was usually pretty frank about what he wanted, but this, this sort of directional placement, was a little different. With his free hand he followed directions, ghosting his fingertips over his throat, along the hard line of his own collarbone over his thin sweater, down, barely running over his nipple and making his breath hitch slightly.

"Again—harder," Charles gasped, squeezing Erik's hand slightly. Seeing how much the brunet apparently liked this, Erik was perfectly eager to make it even better for him.

He let his head fall back on the pillow fully, did it all again, harder, grunting slightly, tensing his hips.

Charles' breath was ragged. "Take off your sweater, please."

"Take it off for me," Erik countered, tugging on Charles' hand.

The man gave him a look like he was being disobedient, which he was, and Erik argued against it. "I never make you do all the work when I fuck you. Come on, pamper me. This is my first time."

"You've done this before," Charles laughed.

"But this will be my first time enjoying it. I'm practically a virgin." Charles' lids dipped at his words so he grinned and continued. He tipped his head back further, tilting his chin up, looking at him through lidded eyes. "I've never done this before, Charles. You'll show me how, won't you? You'll make me feel good."

The smaller man slid his hand free, falling on top of him and writhing as he claimed his lips with his own.

Erik gripped him back immediately, digging his hands into the smaller man's arse and shoving up into him. His own cock was quickly filled and straining at his slacks. Charles' hard cock pressed back against him with equal ardor and it was shocking to think that for once _that_ cock was the power player and _his_ was the side character.

"Are you okay?" Charles panted against him.

He nodded, swallowing hard, stroking his man as the Brit straddled him. He wondered if he should be the one with his legs spread, get ready for the main event. No,' there is no main event'; that's what Charles was always telling him.

Charles was kissing him again, and he wanted to strip the man's shirt off him, but then thought that was more the job of the top, so he left it alone.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Your clothes…"

Charles moaned into his mouth, slipped his hands up Erik's sweater and T-shirt and pulled them both off him before working on his own button-up.

"Help me?" the cheeky brunet asked coyly, sitting up and grinding his hips down slightly into Erik's cock.

Erik had expected Charles to act differently, being the top. More controlling, or more dominating; less downright coquettish. Instead he had the same boyish teasing nature he always had, incredibly confident and incredibly enticing. It was very different than the way Nate or Gunther had treated him, but that was only to be expected he supposed.

He helped the smaller man out of his shirt and it was easy to fall into his regular role: stroking Charles' skin, teasing his nipples, scratching his ribs just slightly because they were somehow very sensitive. As usual Charles bucked and sighed above him, paid him back in kind. Pressed over him again, the smaller man stroked his cock through his slacks and went about undoing his belt with more palm than was necessary.

"Charles," he groaned, his head kicking back of its own accord over a particularly rough swipe. The man sucked on his throat and then licked the bruise he was forming.

"I'm going to take your pants off now, darling," the man responded cheerfully, and pulled away to do just that.

He unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped and when all was clear the Brit slowly peeled the slacks down his hips, his thighs, his calves, one measly inch at a time. Erik was squirming and groaning impatiently by time they pooled off his ankles.

"You are so incredibly awe-inspiringly beautiful," Charles sighed, rubbing his cheek along the side of Erik's leg at the same time as he brushed the free side with his hand.

Erik grinned, flattered at how much Charles could seem to really mean it, and stroked the man's hair.

"Come up here and tell me that to my face."

The brunet laughed and did so, kissing him between each word.

"I'd like you on top of me now, please," Charles whispered, caressing the angles of his jaw.

Erik opened his mouth to say the whole point of this was for him to not be on top, that he didn't want to bottom from the top the way Charles enjoyed, but decided against all of it. His underwear was still on, and Charles still had his pants on to boot. They weren't going to have sex yet, so he didn't need to prepare an argument against these things at the moment. He simply rolled, gripping the smaller man's hips to roll him along with.

Charles moved his legs together, shifting Erik's apart, so that Erik was straddling him and he gasped to feel that hard line of cock pressing against the inside of his bare thigh.

"Okay?" the man questioned, rubbing circles into his hipbones.

Erik nodded. He was, he was okay. They had practiced with this before, after all. He'd felt that cock against him bare and hot, against his thigh and his cleft and against the very entrance to him. Charles had done literally everything short of fully fuck him to prepare him for this moment, and he was ready for it as far as he knew. The problem was that he wouldn't _really_ know until it came right down to it…

Charles reached up and cupped his face gently, guided him down and kissed him, lightly at first and then increasingly deep with each sigh and groan he elicited. When Erik was touching him back, caressing his jaw and throat, rubbing his shoulders and chest, even brushing teasingly at his peaked nipples, Charles allowed his hands to wander as well. Erik groaned painfully when Charles took two handfuls of his ass and dug in, rolling the globes together and apart, pressing his fingers hotly into the still-clothed flesh and dragging Erik's hips down at the same time as he thrust coilingly upwards, grinding them together and making Erik's nerve-endings _ache_. Much to his surprise, Erik felt even the squeamish entrance to himself thrumming with the desire to be brought into play as well, to be licked and fingered and fucked, to enjoy the pedestal of high esteem and the ensuing attention it had been blessed with for the last month.

Shivering slightly, Erik realized he'd stopped kissing and Charles had stopped thrusting, still holding him open but otherwise simply waiting, looking up at him patiently, serenely.

Erik wet his lips and Charles did as well and then Erik took those soft wet lips, reached down between them at the same time and started to undo Charles' pants. He was inordinately proud of the gasp this garnered, the hitch of Charles' hips, too unexpected to be stifled.

"Erik," the man sighed, pulling his hands away only to replace them, this time under the hem of Erik's boxer-briefs.

Tasting Charles' tongue, feeling light-headed, Erik tossed the man's conquered belt away and outlined that cock with the palm of his hand, secretly measuring it against his fingers. He could do this, he could do this. He pulled away slowly, nipping at Charles' mouth and jaw and collarbone, highlighted by the weak lamplight, and when he was kneeling around Charles' shins he leaned back over, rubbing his forehead against the lowest point of Charles' exposed skin, basking in the scent of him through his soft slacks.

Charles took the opportunity to catch his breath, caressing Erik's hair, the hot nape of his neck, his damp shoulders. Swallowing audibly, Erik pressed a kiss to the man's skin, just below his navel, and undid his pants, peeling cloth carefully away from his boyfriend's heavy erection, focusing on the act of sliding them all the way down his lean legs, unhooking them from his sharp heels. Then he tossed them away, staring for a moment at the dark pool they formed on his floor before looking back at the long pale line his boyfriend formed against his shadowy bedspread. His eyes glinted in the faint light. Charles was now completely naked, while Erik was still protected by the thin guard of his cotton underwear.

"Come here," Charles murmured, holding his arms out as for an embrace. Erik went willingly, caressing the brunet's hip and side and shoulder as he fit himself into the long warm arms. Charles laid them side by side, like two pens in a pocket and touched Erik's jaw, the hair behind his ear, leaning slightly over him and kissing him. In return, Erik put both arms around his waist and held him tightly. It felt so good to have him so close, the heat of his skin and the smoothness of it so relaxing, so soothing.

He pulled away from the kiss, nuzzling into Charles' jaw.

"I want you to," he whispered. Charles didn't react, continued petting his hair and his skin. "Charles," he said, louder, pulling back now enough to gaze up into his boyfriend's composed face.

"Charles, did you hear me? I want you to, Charles. I want you to."

"I heard you," Charles assured, voice thick and wavery with emotion. "I just want to memorize this. To keep it always in my mind just like this."

Erik nodded in understanding, arching up enough to kiss Charles lightly on the mouth. Charles kissed him back gently for a moment, and then pushed him away, settling him into the bedspread. Erik's heart was thrumming in his chest, but it felt good, like excitement and the promise of pleasure to come. His boyfriend turned away from him just long enough to take something from the nightstand. Small bottle of lube, and –his prostate leapt for joy at the sight—the finger vibrator.

Charles apparently saw his jolt of enthusiasm, laughed, teeth glinting.

"I don't suppose it'll be any great hardship for you to turn over, eh?"

Erik laughed as well at his own sudden eagerness, and forgot to worry that it sounded the slightest bit frenetic. He turned over, but didn't lose sight of his boyfriend, watching him intently over his shoulder and bundling a pillow under himself to make it a little more comfortable. He watched the man's cock bobbing between his legs as Charles maneuvered beside his knees, setting his wares down carefully. Kissing his shoulder, nuzzling into him briefly, the brunet eased his boxers down and away. Erik's mouth was dry and he found he was very thirsty, but didn't want to stop to get water and so ignored it.

"I'm going to spread your legs now, darling," Charles murmured in the dark, voice gravelly with desire, fingers brushing the backs of Erik's thighs and making his cock ache where it was trapped under his weight.

"Not if I do it first," Erik growled back defiantly, sliding his knees apart and nearly kicking Charles, who only laughed joyously in the moment before he groaned—Erik had arched his back, baring himself proudly. Charles grabbed him in the need to hold onto something as he rode out this overwhelming wave of lust, rubbing the inside of Erik's thigh and stroking his own cock momentarily because he couldn't help it just then.

"You're so unfailingly gorgeous," Charles informed, settling between Erik's knees and kneading his buttocks, brushing the pad of his thumb over the edges of Erik's entrance when he chose to do so. Erik, abs twitching with the ache of his own arousal, pressed back into him, hips lifting from the mattress cyclically. He cried out, loud and aching, as Charles leaned down enough to lick him, just where he wanted him to.

Still pinning him open, fingers digging eagerly into his flesh, Charles did it again, more concise this time, more focused, huffing an amused breath at Erik's trembling moans, an act that only drove him wilder. He pressed back against his boyfriend's ministrations before he got a hold of himself and attempted to lock his hips in place, his thighs immediately trembling with the strain of the task. Erik buried his face in the closest pillow, attempting to muffle himself as Charles lapped at him, sucked at him, before spearing his tongue inside. Sweat pooled in the curve of his spine and chilled immediately even in the humid air, making him shiver, although it was hard at this point to attribute his shivering to any one thing.

"Please," Erik keened, cock full and aching, ready to burst, he was sure. "Please, Charles—please please _please_."

The man didn't tease him, but, perhaps sensing the very real desperation in his cries, pulled off immediately, taking the lube and slathering his fingers. Erik groaned anxiously, not because he was nervous about getting fingered but because he wasn't sure his orgasm could wait till he got fucked. He was so on edge now, so nearly there, and the quick mental tally he did only disheartened him: first there was the fingering, one finger, two, three, then the vibrator, then who knew what? Only somewhere on the other end of that was him getting what he'd been working so hard for.

"Go, Charles," he sobbed at the prospect of half an hour drawing out his painful erection like this, another hour even depending on what else Charles had in his head. "Please, go!"

"Go?" Charles questioned, and the shocked distress in his voice made it apparent he had misunderstood.

Erik scrabbled back for his hand, catching it clumsily and preventing him from doing what he had mistakenly imagined. Locking eyes as much as was possible in the dark, Erik panted, "No! I mean, don't take your _time_. My cock feels ready to burst as it is. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Oh," Charles laughed. "We can take care of that in a jiffy." And pushing Erik's hand away, Charles drove two lubed fingers deep into Erik's arse, making him cry out in pleasure and surprise. But Charles wasn't done there. Kneeling up, the man also reached around and caught his erection, pumping it purposefully in time with his easy thrusts into Erik's body. Choking on the near screams of his own pleasure, Erik thrashed, but there was nowhere to go to escape his own incandescent pleasure—every flight backwards was impaling himself harder on Charles' fingers and every fleeing motion forward was tighter into Charles' grip.

"Stop—stop!" he cried shrilly. "I'm going to—to-!"

"Come, come, darling," Charles hissed heatedly, and when he hit Erik's prostate forcefully there was very little choice about it. Hips thrusting erratically, Erik spilled his seed in great hot streaks across his chest and bedspread, smearing loads into Charles' tight grip, groaning his shuddering pleasure and breathless exhaustion.

When Erik could see anything beyond white noise and looping stars, when he was capable of thought again, he was capable of noticing that Charles had gotten up, was getting something from his bag. He came back smelling of mint mouthwash and holding a towel. The man set it aside and climbed up beside him again, huddling close to him and kissing his back gently.

"How do you feel?" the man asked when he saw intelligence back in the gleam of Erik's gaze.

_Blissed out, _Erik wanted to say. _Boneless, weightless, on a more transparent plane of being. _

But he was barely capable of thinking this, much less saying it. He reached out with a shaky hand and pulled Charles up, closer, kissing him clumsily, as if he'd forgotten how.

"Do you want to keep going?" Charles murmured, smiling against his lips. When Erik nodded the man rolled him over away from the mess he'd made of the comforter back onto his stomach and cuddled him further awake before taking to the stains with his towel.

"You brought your own towel?" he questioned, voice raspy and soft.

"Well I didn't want to ruin one of your nice ones," Charles admitted, rolling the thing up and inserting it under Erik's hips and kissing his spine. "Although I—ahem—got rather caught up in the moment and, well, forgot about it until after…well, sorry. I'll buy you a new duvet cover of course."

"Hmm," Erik said because he didn't know what else to say. He did it again when Charles re-introduced two gentle fingers into his arse.

"How does that feel?" Charles asked an unnoticed number of minutes later, just adding a third finger to the mix.

"Amazing," Erik mumbled back.

"It doesn't hurt?"

Erik shook his head. It didn't feel as if anything could ever hurt him, then, in that moment, with Charles caressing his spine with one hand and his prostate with the other, so sleepily post-orgasmic, so excitingly pre-orgasmic as well.

"You make me feel so good, Charles," he admitted, blinking himself more awake at his prostate's prodding. "So good, so good, so good."

Charles laughed happily. "I'm glad," he said, and pulled away.

Huffing with disappointment, Erik reached a boneless hand down enough to scrabble at whatever part of Charles' body it connected with.

"When someone says you make them feel good you're supposed to keep doing it, not stop," he complained.

"Unless you know of a way to make them feel even better," Charles teased back, and dangled the finger vibrator from its ring, back and forth, back and forth.

But its sight did nothing to thrill Erik—well, not as much as before. Plastic and batteries—what was that compared to the man he really wanted? He pushed it away peevishly.

"Don' want that. I want you. You, Charles—get inside me already, will you?"

"Patience, my love," Charles sing-songed back, and spread his legs wider apart.

Too tired to argue, and knowing he wouldn't win regardless, Erik settled back and practiced patience. He couldn't say it was too much of a difficulty, as Charles turned the little vibrator on and applied it directly to that pulsing spark inside of him.

"Ahh-h!" said Erik, writhing.

"Mmmm," Charles replied happily, kissing the point of his spine. He alternated between pulling away teasingly, brushing against that sweet spot lightly, and pressing into with full abandon. Time passed, although Erik couldn't say how much of it, but he knew it wasn't long before he was making room beneath him for his stirring cock, begging Charles to do it, do it already. He was both bereft and thrilled when Charles pulled that mechanical wonder back out of him and tossed it aside, grabbing the lube up again.

"Yes, yes, yes," Erik moaned into his pillow, fighting a losing battle against drooling.

He changed his tune soon enough as Charles began to finger him again.

"No, no, no," he argued, turning completely over off the helpful towel, sitting up on his elbows. "We already did that. I want _you_."

"Better safe than sorry," Charles coughed anxiously, and Erik realized he wasn't the only one who worried he might ruin everything. "I don't want to hurt you by mistake."

Erik had to collapse back, take a few deep breaths so he knew he'd be understandable when he spoke. When he got that under control he reached forward, pulling Charles against his chest and kissing him distractedly—with Charles' pulsing hot manhood between his legs it was impossible to be anything other than distracted.

"You're not going to hurt me," he rasped, unable to stop himself from shifting his hips up into Charles' weight. He wasn't sure if the man had heard him—his eyes slid shut in a way that made him think maybe he hadn't. "We've prepped me more in a month than normal gay men have been prepped their whole lives, right?"

"I wouldn't quite say that," Charles mumbled, hand wandering down, drawing the curve of Erik's erection, slowly making a comeback between them.

"Close?"

"Perhaps," Charles hedged.

"So what would you say the chances are of you hurting me?"

"I'm a biologist, not a statistician," the man sniffed disdainfully. "It only takes one moment of forgetfulness to do… after all our very pleasurable work, I don't want it to be me who reinforces…I just couldn't live with myself if I caused you pain."

Erik couldn't help but smile at the admission, blushing with pride that Charles felt so protective, so careful of him. He held the man's face in his hands and kissed him gently.

"You're not going to hurt me, Charles. I know you aren't. Please, please give this to me. Please do this with me. I want you to, and I never thought I'd want anyone to ever again. See it through, eh? I am."

He couldn't quite tell in the dim lighting, but when Charles spoke he was almost sure the man was blushing.

"I suppose I sound rather silly. Here you are going through all the difficult stuff and I'm having _you_ comfort _me_."

"Your stuff is difficult in its own way. I know how nerve-wracking it can be, the thought of hurting someone. And you don't even make it worse by being so damnably frail about the whole thing."

"I don't think you're frail," Charles laughed, stroking his erection that was anything but frail.

"Well I'm not being very _brave_ about it either," Erik laughed back.

"I don't want you to have to be brave about it." A kiss to the mouth reinforced the sentiment. "I want this to be something you enjoy, not something you suffer through."

Erik kissed him back, curling his fingers in the man's damp hair. "Then help me enjoy it. I'm ready, Charles."

After a fortifying breath, Charles nodded, kissed him, and slid away, kneeling between his thighs and stroking his chest, his hips, his legs.

"Okay," Charles sighed. "Okay."

Yet after he got the condom on _still_ all he did was stare at Erik as if he were a worrying puzzle, the kind that might explode in response to a wrong move.

"Oh God," Erik laughed, rolling his eyes. He grabbed his boyfriend with joyful exasperation, pulling him against his chest and taking the lube.

"You want me to do it?" Erik teased, kissing him lightly on the mouth and slicking the both of them up. He found that he liked still being necessary in this interaction, required in the grand process of things—making him feel more like a player in the game and less like a receptacle for cock.

"How's that?" he huffed, although with Charles groaning into his shoulder, strangling the blankets beside him as he stroked lube onto the man's erection, Erik could pretty well guess.

"Good," Charles panted regardless. "Good, so good, Erik."

Gulping, the man worked himself up to his elbows, stroking Erik's hair in a way that was distractedly clumsy with Erik still touching him firmly. He tried to help the man by stopping, seeing how on edge he was. He caressed Charles' hip instead, tried to stop himself from arching up where the man's cock was pressed against his.

"I can do it," Charles huffed, attempting to swallow, nuzzling Erik's throat momentarily.

"Please do," Erik laughed back, and found that he meant it, so he said it again, more seriously.

"Tell me," Charles said, looking him in the eye dramatically. "If you want me to stop, tell me, okay?"

"I don't want you to stop," Erik gulped, closing his eyes to steady himself. He didn't, he told himself, heart racing.

Charles distracted him with kissing, pressing his lips apart, sliding his tongue over his teeth and against his own, breathing his own air, but, nice as it was, Erik didn't want to be distracted just then. Fearful of he was of this process, he masochistically wanted to be aware of every moment of it, the same way he'd been with his childhood vaccinations. No matter how his mother tried to bribe his attention away, he simply had to watch the needle pierce him.

It was much the same now. Only a lot a lot a lot bigger. When he felt the hot head of Charles' cock press against his entrance, he simply had to push the man away enough to watch it.

"It's okay," he panted when Charles stilled nervously. He tugged on the man's hip to underscore it, and Charles pressed forward.

"Relax, relax," the man murmured, massaging his skull.

Erik struggled to do as he was told. They'd practiced this. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, on the tightness of his muscles, slowly coaxing them out of their reflexively tense pose. Charles seemed to sense when his body was calm again and pressed in a little further. Erik tried to watch again but it was too dark in the shadowland between them; he couldn't tell how far Charles was, but it didn't seem very far. Since he couldn't see anyway he let his head fall back and focused completely on not tensing up around the man. Only when Charles took a deep shuddering gasp did Erik realize he'd been holding his breath.

In the dim light, the man's brow looked furrowed in pain or uncertainty. Erik brushed the pads of his fingers there and Charles turned into his touch, breath shaking.

"I think it's too tight," he gasped. "I should—I should have prepped you longer. I'll do it again."

He made as if to pull back but Erik stopped him. He didn't want to fight for the same real estate twice. If Charles pulled out he'd only have to be penetrated all over again.

"Tight is good, right?" he asked thinly. He knew that was certainly case when he was the top; he couldn't imagine it could be otherwise now.

"But too tight…I could hurt you…"

"Am I complaining about you hurting me? Keep going." It didn't hurt, after all. He felt stretched, invaded, full, and there was definitely the protesting sort of ache of a muscle not used to being stretched so far for so long, but it didn't hurt. He held Charles' hip and pulled him closer.

The man gulped, flexed his shoulder—probably sore from propping himself up like this—and eased in closer. Erik didn't focus on the increasing intrusion into his body; it was impossible to ignore but he didn't focus on it. He focused instead on his fingers tangled in Charles' hair, on his other hand pressed flat in the small of Charles' back, feeling the strain there. He felt the heat of Charles' body between his legs, new but pleasurable, and then the press of Charles full against him.

He looked up and Charles was watching him, smiling at him weakly.

"That's it?"

Charles actually guffawed, arms shaking with laughter.

"Thanks! I hope you're not always going to be so cruel a bottom."

Erik's face burst into a flame of embarrassment he was glad Charles probably couldn't see.

"That's not what I meant! I mean…you're all the way, aren't you?"

"I'm all the way," the brunet agreed with amusement and heavy breathing.

Erik about laughed with joy, but he knew this was not the proper time to laugh, especially not after already hurting Charles' feelings. Still, it was hard to contain. It didn't hurt. He hadn't freaked out. He hadn't ruined everything and proved himself an unmitigated coward.

He threw his arms around Charles' shoulders and dragged him down for an energetic kiss, clumsy in its enthusiasm, made more erotic from feeling Charles move _inside_ of him. God, was this what it was like for Charles? _Feeling_ him move? Feeling themselves joined so intimately?

"It doesn't hurt then?" Charles murmured against his lips.

Erik shook his head, still beaming. He moved his legs, shifted his hips, curled his spine, anything to feel Charles sheathed inside of him, all the way to the hilt.

"I'm going to move now, okay?" the brunet said, half-moaning, gulping hard.

"Yes," Erik agreed eagerly. Yes, the thought of Charles moving in him, thrusting into him, fucking him, coming inside him, even with a condom. Erik's mind went immediately from happy to happily erotic, and he dropped his hand between them to stroke his own eager cock. Charles, meanwhile, braced above him, tentatively shifting his hips back and then close again, moving a hand to hold Erik's hips in place.

"You're so tight I can scarcely move," the man chuckled, aiming his hips well and pushing himself all the way inside again. Erik liked the sensation, and tried to do what Charles did when their roles were reversed, pressing back against him, spreading his legs wider, coiling his hips to meet his slow thrusts. He smiled at Charles' ragged moan, his breathless gasps for air.

"It's good, isn't it?" he goaded cheekily. Charles wasn't chagrined by the necessary answer.

"You're always very good, darling," the man laughed back, settling closer as Erik's body loosened to accept him more easily.

"You are too," Erik felt compelled to say. He held the man around his waist, nuzzling into his hair, his cheek. "Your cock feels so good inside me, Charles."

The man's hips lost their rhythm for a moment, jolting erratically, but it was over in a second as Charles' body clenched down on every impulse, stilling completely. Erik was only upset that the man stopped—he wanted him to keep going, to do that again, even, to show that even when Charles lost control, still it didn't hurt.

"I-I'm sorry," the Brit gasped, choking slightly against his shoulder. Erik just stroked his skin and waiting until he could passably request that his boyfriend get the fuck over it and continue fucking him. In the meantime, though, he did it himself, flexing himself down as far as he could on Charles' cock before easing back up.

Charles put a shaking, stilling hand back on his hip, as if begging for respite, but Erik wasn't feeling very respite-ful.

"Please," he murmured into Charles' hair, voice thin and needy. "Please, Charles—fuck me."

"That is not helping," the man moaned, and Erik couldn't help but smile. No, it probably wasn't.

"It's okay to lose control, _Helligkeit,_" he insisted, kissing his cheek. "You won't hurt me. Just give it to me. Give me all of you."

Shoulders trembling, Charles pulled away, holding Erik's face as he kissed him, slow and yet rushed, desperate.

"I won't hurt you," he repeated, determined. Then he pulled back out of Erik's grasp, almost sitting back on his heels, and matter-of-factly pulled Erik's leg up until the back of his thigh was pressed against Charles' chest, his knee folded over Charles' shoulder. Charles pushed his other leg outwards, until he could feel the strain across the muscles and ligaments there, like a challenging yoga pose. A very pleasurable challenging yoga pose, Erik amended as Charles about folded him in two like origami and dove back into him, making him see stars and shout out with the instant pleasure of it.

Up until then, Erik had simply been ecstatic that this was a pain-free experience. He found the sensation of Charles inside of him, of Charles fucking him, erotic and exciting. But this. This was downright pleasurable, he admitted as sparks of ecstasy shivered and shimmied up and down his nerve endings, making him feel blissful and boneless and hungry all at once.

"More, more!" he begged, scrabbling at Charles' shoulders.

The brunet acquiesced, pulling back but not unfolding him, driving in again and again, uncounted times as Erik twisted and cried out again, head tossing side to side happily. Just when he could hardly stand it Charles pressed in all the way, not pulling out so far this time but grinding at the entrance of him in tight close circles. It felt absolutely equally amazing.

Erik moaned wantonly, arching against him and thus remembering that he had a cock that was equally as good at giving him pleasure. Immediately, h began to tug on himself furiously, overwhelmed quickly by the dual sensations of Charles' cock beating down his prostate and his own hand strangling his cock. Charles pushed his hand away quickly, growling at him. It took Erik a few moments to figure out what he was saying, and went nearly boneless again with the pleasure of understanding him.

"You're going to come from nothing but my cock inside you, do you understand?" the brunet growled, hips slapping at him forcefully.

With the state he was in, Erik had no doubt that it was possible and tossed his head back excitedly, slamming himself down to meet the rhythm of Charles' own quick thrusts, lengthy and passionate. It still didn't hurt, but there was a noticeable burn there that hadn't yet peaked into discomfort so he didn't bother trying to avoid it. Quite the opposite. Seeing how much this didn't hurt made him morbidly curious as to how much he'd have to do before it _did_ hurt.

"Yes, Charles, yes!" he hissed, gripping the man by the arse and _dragging_ him in harder. "Fuck, make me come, Charles—oh God!"

Charles fought him on it, holding back. He apparently wasn't as interested in finding out Erik's limits as Erik was. That was fine, Erik decided. They'd have plenty more time to test him. For now he just lay back and let Charles please him, caressing the inside of his stretched thigh, folding him up and thrusting inside him , long smooth thrusts and short quick ones and all of it so good and in the midst of how wonderful he felt was Charles. Charles who had already added so many good things to his life and was apparently keen on increasing the list so much that he managed to transform terrifying elements into beatific ones.

"You're so good, Charles," he gasped, unable to explain the intricacy of what he meant by this, only able to repeat it. "So good, so good."

"Oh, Erik," Charles hissed back, bending him further just to be able to reach enough to kiss him, kiss him desperately and deeply. That was all it took, and sparks of pleasure were arcing through him and over him, blinding him into pure instinct, so that he clutched Charles close to him and at the same time thrust up against him without really meaning to.

He had to break their kiss, throwing his head back as he cried out, something unintelligible but maybe a curse, and maybe from the tightness of his orgasm or simply the heat of the moment Charles was dragged alongside him into his own orgasm, hips jerking but still careful not to harm, muffling his own mewlings in Erik's shoulder.

Erik slowly regained his breath, groaning, panting, still holding Charles close, holding him even closer when the man tried to move off of him, out of him. Charles only tried the once and then settled back against him, breathing heavily, kissing Erik's shoulder lazily where he rested atop it. Even exhaustion couldn't keep Erik from grinning proudly, tightening down to feel Charles softening inside him. He'd done it. With Charles' help, he'd done it.

"That was nice," he mumbled in a daze.

Charles chuckled heavily on top of him, his ribs jabbing Erik's tender stomach. When Charles tried again Erik let him pull away. His heart stuttered a bit, feeling the sudden emptiness of his own body without Charles in it. His body alone had never felt so empty before. He rolled over with Charles, wanted to stay as close as possible even as the man tied and tossed the waste of their exchange.

"Think you'll do it again?" the Brit panted, turning back and curling Erik's damp hair around his fingertips. He had to smile back.

"Absolutely," he sighed happily. And he meant it. He'd do it again right then just to prove his sincerity if either of them were at all capable.

Charles' hand paused momentarily in his hair, but when Erik opened his eyes to see what was the matter the man was only smiling at him, eyes warm with adoration.

"You're so amazing," the brunet murmured, petting him fully now, snuggling up even closer as they began to chill in the night air. Although the rest of him was getting cold, Erik's cheeks erupted in heat as he blushed deeply. He coughed slightly, tried to brush the praise away physically.

"What are you talking about?" he balked gruffly. Charles held him tightly, forcing his praise upon him.

"I mean it. Awful things happen to you, things that you could fixate upon for the rest of your life, but instead you face it, you meet it head-on and you overcome it, you make actual efforts to overcome it." A spasm of self-contempt seemed to wash over Charles' features and he rolled onto his back in a vain attempt to mask it. "Meanwhile, I push them down and let them prey on me from within. If I had half the courage you do…"

"Hey," Erik balked, clinging close again. "I had some help, if you remember. If you were dating someone half as amazing as you are then you'd be in much better standing."

Charles glanced at him, but that crack of vulnerability was gone, and the man beside him was once again strong and self-contained. Although Erik shivered, he wasn't daunted. Charles was naturally open and trusting, and Erik had every reason to believe that, given enough time, he'd be able to gain access to the parts of Charles that the man held apart even from himself.

"Let's go take a bath and get warmed up, eh?" the Brit suggested happily, rolling atop him and kissing him with good cheer. "There happens to be some champagne smuggled in my overnight bag—I think this calls for a celebration!"

Erik laughed as well, but shook his head.

"You should have told me—I'd have put it in the fridge. There's nothing more depressing than warm champagne."

"Luckily, your boyfriend thinks of everything," Charles winked, and, leaping to his bag, he pulled out a sizeable bottle of champagne wrapped in a chilling sleeve.

Erik grinned back at him and stretched luxuriously, feeling that tonight was only going to get better and better for him.

"See? I told you you were a much more amazing boyfriend than I am."

Charles only laughed before bundling him up lovingly in a big robe and an even bigger embrace and leading him up to the master bathroom to further Erik's coddling.


End file.
